


Boobs

by sassy_pelican



Series: Henry Cavill One-Shots [3]
Category: DC Extended Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_pelican/pseuds/sassy_pelican
Summary: Henry is a boob guy, and Henry is drunk.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Reader, Henry Cavill/You
Series: Henry Cavill One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165352
Kudos: 33





	Boobs

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader  
> Warnings: language, fluff, some boob stuff, Henry being a dork  
> A/N: This can be read as a standalone one-shot or as a non-linear installment of my previous two (and as of now only two) Henry fics. This also came to me at like 2 a.m. one night and I wrote the idea down and forgot about it until now. Enjoy. This is unedited

Henry Cavill was a boob man. He liked asses, sure, but  _ boobs _ , that’s where it’s at for him. More importantly he liked yours. To you, they were nothing special. They were just your boobs, the ones you’ve been living with for a good portion of your life. To him, they were like a new toy, even after you’ve been together a while. 

Henry was also always affectionate. Never overly so, he isn’t that type of person, but he liked to be touching you. Drunk Henry on the other hand, was overly affectionate. Which brings you here, to the predicament you’re currently in. 

You knew people were staring. You would be if you weren’t already a part of it. Henry Cavill, a highly recognizable actor, was drunk off his ass and currently  _ obsessed _ with your boobs. No matter how many times you moved his hands or any other part of him, nothing worked. It was like they were magnetized to Henry. 

“Hen,” you say. He ignores you. “Henry,” you try again. Again, he ignores you, hands fondling your boobs over your shirt and eyes filled with child-like wonder, even though you knew his mind was far from child appropriate thoughts. “Henry!” 

Your last half yell gets his attention, but only his eyes leave your chest. “What?” he asks. For a moment you just stare at him, his hands still on you, at least still now. 

“Will you please stop grabbing my boobs?” you ask politely. Reasoning with a very drunk Cavill - at least this one - is like trying to break through a brick wall with a plastic knife. It isn’t going to happen. 

“But you like it when I grab your boobs.” he says, visibly confused. 

“When we’re in private!” you half yell, trying once again to remove his hands, and once again they snap back like a rubber band to you. 

“Can we go home then?” he asks. You close your eyes and sigh. 

“Yes Hen,” you say. “We can go home.” 

“Okay,” he says, getting up and practically dragging you out the door. You manage to throw down what cash you have - thankfully more than enough - to foot the bill while he tugs at your arm. 

“Hen!” 

He stops and looks at you, eyes going straight to your boobs. “Yes?”

“Slow down,” you say. He nods but his eyes don’t leave you. You have to shove him into the car, and fight to get him to unbury his face from your cleavage once he’s in the passenger seat. 

The entire way home his hand is under your shirt, pressed against your bra, occasionally slipping inside. He never tries to do anything though, just touch you. If you weren’t so worried about what kind of pictures will be online tomorrow you’d find it sweet. As it was, tabloids were going to eat this up. 

The tiredness is starting to set in by the time you’re about to drag him through the door and Kal just looks at his dad with puzzled eyes, a little whine coming from him. “I know bud,” you say. “Dad is a little drunk, and is starting to get sleepy.”

“I’m not sleepy!” Henry says, suddenly yelling and you jump. Without a second for you to process anything your shirt if off and your bra is across the room. However, by the time you are processing events, his face is buried against you and he sighs, perfectly content. 

“Hen,” you say, gently running your fingers through his hair. “I need to let Kal go potty.” Henry nods but doesn’t move. This time it’s you who sighs, and carefully walks to the back door to let Kal out. 

You make it to the bedroom without incident but still with Henry attached to you. “Hen, babe, I need to brush my teeth and so do you?”

“But why?” he asks, peeking up from your chest. 

“So our teeth don’t fall out,” you explain. Taking care of a drunk Henry Cavill is a lot like taking care of a toddler, and while it’s cute for a while, it gets old, fast. 

“Okay,” he concedes. He almost runs into the bathroom, his hulking form wobbling around like a newborn deer. It’s truly a sight to see. You know it’s safe to get Kal when you hear the water running. 

Quickly as possible you get the dog, feed him, and get yourself ready for bed, all while ignoring Henry’s whines from the bed and his grabby hands. 

“I’ll be there soon Hen,” you call, but you don’t hear anything back. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and see him sound asleep, thankfully in his pj’s - undressing the large men when he’s dead to the world is something you only ever want to do once. Although you don’t bother putting on a shirt when you finally climb into bed, even asleep, Henry is liable to get it off in the night. 

It’s light kisses that wake you up and a very happy and sleepy Henry hovering over you as you wake up. “Morning,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t you be hungover?” you ask. 

“Never with you,” he says, nuzzling into your neck. 

“Remember anything?”

“A bit,” he says. “I was a bit grabby wasn’t I?”

“Only a bit,” you lie. 

“What did I do?” he asks and you smile. 

“We might not want to check the tabloids for a while. They may or may not be full of you with both a handful and faceful of my boobs.”

“Sorry?”

“You are not.”

“Nope,” he smirks. “I’m not.”


End file.
